


gone

by K0BRAK1D (pastelxzavva)



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Grounding, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Other, Panic attack(s), Past Character Death, tdlr; party has a meltdown thinking about someone he lost but they arent named or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelxzavva/pseuds/K0BRAK1D
Summary: it's his fault.it has to be.he should have done more.he could have done better.they're gone.they're gone.they're GONE.





	gone

**Author's Note:**

> sorry. this was originally a vent fic.

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

It’s like a pattern in his head that he can’t shake. 

 

It won’t leave him alone, so he deals with it silently and marches on, eyes set dead ahead. 

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

He keeps walking, on and on and on and on. 

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

What happened? Why is that voice chanting at him? He doesn’t know so he forces himself to keep walking, ignoring the sting of tears 

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gone.**

 

**Gøne.**

 

**Gøne.**

 

**Gøne.**

 

**Gønë.**

 

**Gønë.**

 

**GønË.**

 

**GØÑË.**

 

**HÈ’Š GØÑÊ ÆŃD ĮT WÃŠ ÅŁL ŸŒŪR FÁÚŁT.**

 

suddenly he’s on his knees, hands buried in his hair, mumbling incoherently to himself. he’s gone. 

 

just like  **him** . 

 

fuck _fuck **fuck**_

**he** **n** e **e** d **s** _ **to** **ge** t **up**_

_**get** **up** pa_ ** _r_ ty ****po** i ** _son_**

**get** up

g **et** **up**

**g** e **t up**

**g** **e** **t** u **p**

 

nothing. 

 

is he alive?

 

is he dead?

 

his head hurts. 

 

his throat feels dry. 

 

he can hear voices talking. 

 

where is he?

 

“kobes...?”

 

and he’s gone again. 

 

a soft hand is petting his hair, working through the mess, murmuring gentle words. he’s disorientated. everything is out of focus. it’s blurry, fuzzy. like the bad cameras in the city. 

 

the city….

 

mikey. 

 

momma. 

 

papa. 

 

where are they?

 

is he okay?

 

what’s going on?

 

“h e y, p a r t y ? are you with us?”

 

he opens his eyes. 

 

deep mocha eyes, inky-black hair, tattoos on his neck. 

 

**fun ghoul.**

 

**frankie.**

 

“gh-o-u-l?” his voice breaks, hurting on every letter.

 

“yeah, i’m here.” ghoul’s hand, fingers still rough and firm from those years of guitar cup his cheek and scratch a little at the skin. 

 

“m- kobes. where is he?” there’s a pause and ghoul leans back, beckoning someone over. there’s a gentle haze, a moving figure. 

 

red.

 

bright, bright red. 

 

a tiny hint of yellow. 

 

black. lots of. 

 

**kobra kid.**

 

ghoul and kobra switch places, and kobra moves closer, it’s coming into focus and then it’s crashing down again. 

 

his vision is whiting out, he can’t see, can’t breathe. 

 

“ f i v e  t h i n g s y o u can see, come on now.” it’s grounding. 

 

party breathes. 

 

and points, although weakly. 

 

**number one - kobra’s jacket.**

 

**number two - jet’s ray gun in the corner.**

 

**number three - the paint stain on the wall.**

 

**number four - kobra’s hair.**

 

**number five - the blanket that’s over him.**

 

“good job.” 

 

kobra strokes his hair back gently, carefully.

 

“four things you can touch, are?” he asks, gently pulling back. 

 

**number one -**

 

he hesitates, honestly. then he reaches for kobra. 

 

kobra holds his hand. 

 

one down. 

 

**number two -**

 

his own jacket, the thick, slightly sticky texture of leather. 

 

kobra hums in approval. 

 

two more. 

 

**number three -**

 

the mattress. 

 

it’s rough, bumpy, and catches on his uneven fingernails. 

 

it hurts, but it’s one more. 

 

**number four -**

 

party moves his hand a tiny bit, gently dragging his fingernails over the seam of kobra’s jacket sleeve. 

 

he did it.

 

“there you go. three things you can hear?”

 

**number one -**

 

party can hear kobra, so he gestures weakly to him. 

 

kobra nods. 

 

**number two -**

 

there’s a soft buzz of conversation outside, ghoul’s warm voice mixed with jet’s calm one. 

 

party points out the door, and kobra nods again. 

 

**number three -**

 

the third one is always the hardest to do. party hesitates, looking around nervously. 

 

there’s the sharp whistling of the wind outside, he realizes. he can hear that.

 

party points to the wall.

 

“wind?”

 

he nods, and looks over his shoulder as ghoul walks into the room, murmurs something in kobra’s ear. 

 

kobra leaves.

 

ghoul sits down.

 

links their fingers.

 

“there’s nothing really to smell, is there?” he asks quietly, shifting to kiss party’s knuckles. 

 

party doesn’t smile, but he does nod in agreement.

 

“...i know something you can taste, though.”

 

party looks at him, tilting his head. 

 

**number one -**

 

ghoul kisses him, soft and light, stroking his cheek with his knuckles and party melts into it instantly. 

 

they seperate, only a few seconds later, and party’s smiling softly, and reaches for ghoul.

 

ghoul moves so that party can cuddle up to him, and he does, face pressing into ghoul’s collarbone. 

 

“....’an smell smoke an’ you.” party mumbles after a second, and he can hear ghoul laugh. 

 

“that’s a bit out of order, but it’ll do.”

 

“good job, love.”

 

and he feels okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> the grounding method used in this fic is the following:
> 
> 5 - THINGS YOU CAN SEE   
> 4 - THINGS YOU CAN TOUCH  
> 3 - THINGS YOU CAN HEAR  
> 2 - THINGS YOU CAN SMELL  
> 1 - THING YOU CAN TASTE
> 
> feel free to use it whenever - it personally helps me.


End file.
